


If I get fired tomorrow is probably because I…

by Luxi_Storyteller



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Drunk!Clarke, F/F, Fine Stud Lexa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 06:38:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10893786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luxi_Storyteller/pseuds/Luxi_Storyteller
Summary: Clarke,If I get fired tomorrow is probably because I…1. Groped my boss’s boob2. Made her buy me a Big Mac3. Threw Big Mac at her4. Threw hot phone out her car windowIn case I didn't get fired, you need to be at work at 11. Get up and shower.You stink.-Drunk Clarke





	If I get fired tomorrow is probably because I…

The crinkling paper on my face makes my skull split open. Just enough sound to send every nerve on edge. I try to stay still, but the wave of air flutters the demon paper on my face.

Even with my eyes closed the axis of my being is tipping sideways. I'm going to vomit. _Please, not in my bed._ I try to get up, but the paper comes with me.

Swatting at it doesn't help. The motion makes me spin even though my feet don't move on the carpet. I freeze.

It's in my throat but I hold it. My esophagus is on fire, but I hold it and push with my feet. One motion and I'm going.

Shoulder smacks the wall, I'm off target. New target trashcan next to sink. A direct line of path as the vomit starts coming before I'm at the end of my journey.

I only miss a little. The sour acid brings up so much more.

Tiles are cool on my knees and I decide to let my face feel the same relief.

The paper crunches as I try to lay down. It's all it's fault.

My face doesn't reach the tile. I sit up against the wall. Hand coming up to block out the light that's attacking me from the window. Nothing should be this bright the night after a work Cinco de Mayo party.

_Fucking work._

I crunch the paper more, knowing. I hate it when I leave myself a note. It means I made an ass out of myself. At work.

With a heavy sigh, I open it. My handwriting sucks when I'm drunk. Most of the ink is smeared from where my hand ran over it trying to write.

 

> _Clarke,_
> 
> _If I get fired tomorrow is probably because I…_
> 
>   1. _Groped my boss’s boob_
>   2. _Made her buy me a Big Mac_
>   3. _Threw Big Mac at her_
>   4. _Threw hot phone out her car window_
> 

> 
> _In case I didn't get fired, you need to be at work at 11. Get up and shower._
> 
> _You stink._
> 
> _Drunk Clarke_

I hit the toilet this time. My body punishing me for being an asshole.

My face against the toilet seat, I thank Mr. Crapper for inventing the false idol.

Cold water is what I need. Legs wobble too much to move so I turn on the shower with a few awkward swipes. My face up, I drink from the rain like head. Lobbing like a dog in a fountain.

My face is soaked, my hair frizzy. This counts as my shower.

The alarm goes off, and my hands hit the sides of my head trying to cover my ears. It's only then I understand the note.

I touched Lexa Trikru’s boob! Lexa “CEO Commander I'll fire you for getting my coffee wrong” Trikru.

_Fuck!_

~~~~~

Even though they cover most of my face, the fucking glasses do nothing to block the sun’s attack. Two identical coffees in my hands, I walk quickly into the steel and glass paneled building.

My badge clears the first entry point, and I realize I'm going to get hard core fired rather than just ghosted out.

_Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_

The elevator makes my stomach twist but six flights later and I'm heading to the desk in front of Lexa’s office. I freeze when I see her door is open. It's open and she's sitting in her high back leather chair. Every hair in place, and the sternest HR person perched just on the side of her desk.

I'm in clear sight of the room, and I can't move fast enough.

“Ms. Griffin, join us.”

Indra’s growl is not worse than her bite. Her bite practically tore Octavia a new asshole for giving a former employee a box of tissues when she was fired for printing a copy of a short story her daughter wrote.

I enter the room, placing Lexa’s coffee on her desk just above the glass protector over her mahogany. “Is it too late to apologize?” I ask, hoping for a miracle from the porcelain god I'd prayed to all morning.

“Sexual harassment.”

I look at Lexa’s silent face. She had never really paid attention to me before today. Never looked up to see me when I dropped of her morning coffee. Only speaking to me when she needed a call, a copy, or a travel arrangement.

“I'm sorry,” I tell Lexa.

Indra starts on about legality, values of the company, and then Lexa’s personal violation.

I violated her.

“I'm sorry. I don't know what happened-”

“You groped my chest and stated that I had the perfect amount to latch your mouth on. You threw a greasy and soggy burger at me after begging for it. You-”

“Deserve to be fired for being a drunken asshole,” I complete.

Lexa sits up straighter. Not accustomed to me holding a conversation with her let alone cutting her off, she seem to boil. Her blood rises up her long neck where the pulse seems to be pounding harder than the time Murphy lost his shit in the office and her a soulless bitch.

“Was that your goal?”

I look in her eyes, and am grateful that only word vomit spews from my lips, “I'm pretty sure my goal at some point was to take you to bed because you're beautiful and I have been crushing on you since we met. Getting someone I want has never been a problem, but I need this job and you didn't bat one of your fucking perfect looks in my direction so I am sure I lost my mind and when you were being nice and I still can't have my way because you are the perfect gentle woman that apparently even took me home even after I threw a hot phone out of a window that I threw a tantrum like the five year old drunk Clarke is when she doesn't get her way.”

Nothing moves.

Well I mean Indra’s breathing like a battle horse, but Lexa doesn't say anything.

I bite my lip.

“So you remember last night?”

I shake my head. “I wrote myself a note to explain what I did to get myself fired.”

“You're not fired.”

“Lexa, we agreed-”

“Shut up, Indra.” The green eyes turn to Indra. She doesn't move anything else just her terrifying (fucking beautiful) eyes to the HR lady. “Leave us.”

Indra stands straighter. She pulls at the frumpy flower shirt, and tried to be taller. Not really sure what she's going for. We are both sitting down. No height is going to change the daggers combing from Lexa’s power feature.

“Now.”

My spine straightens. The air thick with musk and determination.

“Don't get us sued,” she states before walking towards the door.

“Close the door,” Lexa instructs, getting up from her chair. She makes her way around the desk and leans against the edge. Her navel is hidden under her shirt just at my eyes level, and I wish I'd been born on Kripton.

The latch fixes before she moves again. A slender hand comes up, guiding my eyes from the silver buckle of her belt. I let her move me, wishing I could remember this as the first time we’ve touched.

“I see you.”

I don’t understand.

“I see you everyday.” She takes a breath, “Even when I don’t look up, I see your eyes reflecting back on my computer screen through the sky. Did you know that my favorite color was always purple until I saw your eyes the first time?”

My shaking head causes her hand to drop. _Stay still, Dipshit!_

“I mean this kindly when I say, your voice is like a slow drive down a familiar dirt road. It makes me miss my childhood home most days, which is why I avoid conversations with you.”

Lexa’s hands support her as she pushes up onto the desk. Her slacks bunching a little as she spreads her legs just enough to get comfortable.

Can’t stop the saliva, so I clench my jaw. I can’t let her see me drool.

“I was going to kiss you when someone bumped into you,” she starts. She’s looking so carefully at me, I just stay still and quiet. “You’re drink spilled on me, and you tried to clean it up. You started unbuttoning my shirt at the bar and then apparently my suckable boobs caught your attention.” She chuckles as she recounts the night. “You started fondling my breast, and I…” she pauses, her head falling back.

I look up at the ceiling to see if maybe there is something written there. There isn’t. Just hanging industrial style lights.

When I look back at her, she’s watching me. “I have never felt so alive.”

_Breathe._

Lexa’s looking for me to respond now. Maybe to tell her I felt the same. But I don't remember, so I say the first thing I can think of. “What’s a hot phone?”

Another laugh. Like a siren calling me to my doom of unemployment, because if she keeps talking like this, I’m going to try and kiss her again.

“Yours died apparently. You said you needed to put your number in mine so I could ‘booty call you’.”

_I hate you, Drunk Clarke._

“Mine was apparently hot. It apparently was hot as hell and you stuck it out the window to cool it off.”

I can’t walk let alone hold something in a moving vehicle.

“I remember you apologizing and crying over spilling my coffee that one morning. I know you always bring two now just in case. I didn’t think you were actually that clumsy, until you dropped my phone out of the window.”

My chin falls. Why couldn’t dad teach me some sort of hand eye coordination?

“You cried.”

With a dramatic circle of my head, I finally find some words. “I’m a mess. And I don’t drink like at all since college. I can’t drink and not do stupid shit that Drunk Clarke leaves me notes about.”

“It’s cute that you take responsibility for what you do.” She smiles at me, and adds, “It’s one of my favorite character traits you possess. You always own your actions.”

I stand up. My body between her legs but not in her space. “So you were going to kiss me.”

She swallows. Her eyes falling to my lips. I hope she’s thinking about it again.

With a step forward, I’m in her space. Spring mountain cologne settles my stomach, and I don't feel ill anymore. I feel powerful.

“You have perfect lips,” I tell her.

She doesn’t wait. Her hand comes up to the base of my neck, pulling me into her. Her top lip covering mine. Gently she coaxes my lips to part. Just enough to connect around each other before we move in tandem. No ugly nose bumps but messed up moments.

When Lexa starts to pull away, I press against her again. Swiping my tongue over her lower lip until she runs hers along mine. My hand holding her waist as she pulls me in closer.

When we break, our foreheads rest against each other.

“I’m transferring you to Anya’s division,” she says.

I pull back. Searching her eyes for an answer that I don’t find because I have never seen her up close before. I get lost in trying to name the shade of her eyes. I remember her words though as I decide on naming the color prosperity.

“Why?” I ask.

She smiles, and her fingers curl into my hair. “So that I can take you on a real date, and I kiss you again.”


End file.
